


Cut to the Quick

by CapsuleCrisis



Series: KakaVege Week (tumblr) [3]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragonball Z
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Nail Biting, Past Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, emotionally stunted vegeta, kakavege, tumblr: kakavegeweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapsuleCrisis/pseuds/CapsuleCrisis
Summary: The smallest gestures mean the most.---For tumblr KakaVege week, "Insecurities"
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Series: KakaVege Week (tumblr) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790779
Comments: 23
Kudos: 91
Collections: Kakavege Week, My Dragonball Favs





	Cut to the Quick

When had he gotten here?

Vegeta sat on the edge of the tub, rivulets of water sluicing down his body, towel forgotten at his feet. Water draining, the sound rhythmic. Ordinary. Staring at his hands.

He’d done it again.

Walk it back slowly. Logically. Woke up, shook the sleep from his head. No breakfast. Nausea. Bathed. Caught up in the whispers of some ambient nightmare.

_Weakling._

Judging by the puckered nature of his skin, he figured he lost about an hour in the bath. A memory slipped in. Something he thought he’d forgotten. Something desperately tucked away in into a neat little box, long eluded, left to gather dust in the darkest edges of his mind.

He watched with practiced apathy as the small crimson pools slowly leaked into his nail beds. Lazy droplets fell to his thighs.

A sharp intake of breath.

A small annoyance, nothing more. He brought two of the offending digits to his mouth, mechanic, automatic. Not meant to soothe, only to stem the flow. Necessity.

Iron hit his tongue.

Nappa had told him once that their ancestors used to keep their nails long and sharp. Proud Saiyan warriors, the whole lot. Elegant creatures wielding fearsome claws that matched the severity of their teeth. Vegeta relished in that visual. It was barbaric, but he ached with pleasure and longing at the thought of it.

Vegeta had lashed out once, when he’d first been conscripted into Frieza’s army. The Ginyus’ taunted him in the washroom, prodding and poking mercilessly physically and otherwise. He couldn’t remember which of them pushed him over the edge, exactly. They all blurred together in his mind. He was a child. Had he been a little older, he could have walked away. But his pride wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t cow the feeling of primal rage settled deep in his bones.

He snapped, all teeth and claws, gouging at flesh just for the chance to feel _something_ tear and yield beneath his fingers. For the record, he’d gotten in a few spectacular slashes.

Maybe that’s why they broke his hand.

_Shattered. He couldn’t move it anymore, but he sure as hell could feel it._

_Laughter cut through the white hot, shrill ringing that assaulted his ears._

_“You think you can just do whatever you want, you little shit?”_

_“Let’s teach this little animal how to behave, shall we boys?”_

_“Incredible, can’t believe they just let a wild monkey roam around free like this. Better find him a decent cage, keep ‘em chained up!”_

_Pinned down, limbs spread, all the breath expelled from his lungs, face slammed brutally against the cold tiles. Fur plucked mercilessly from his tail, the joints within kinked and callously maimed, making him see stars._

_A frantic yell._

_Bastards! All of them!_

_Cruel laughter, searing pain. His nails cut down till they bled. Something cold, sharp shoved underneath, lifting them from their beds._

_“Keep screaming little monkey, and we’ll take those little fangs of yours next!”_

Humiliating.

His ancestors kept their claws sharp.

Vegeta often thought of ripping his nails clear off of his fingers.

He thought he was getting better. Those assholes had been dead for a while, after all.

Gloves usually did the trick, but sometimes his nails would grow too long, hitting the material, making things tight and uncomfortable, the friction unbearable. Time alone was spent chewing them back down to serviceable nubs. Raw and cracked.

He popped his fingers out of his mouth, an almost comical sound echoing off of the tiles. He glared down at his mangled nails, chewed fervently down to the quick, gnarled and tinged pink from duress.

A quick rinse, pinkish water running over the white porcelain of the sink. He moved like a man possessed into the bedroom, toweling himself off vigorously before throwing on a simple tank top and spandex for training.

Gloves, of course, to complete the ensemble.

Earthling vestments weren’t always congruent with wearing gloves, he’d been informed. Bulma had made that exceedingly clear on multiple occasions. It wasn’t as if he felt swayed by her arguments. The nuances of earthling fashions were of little consequence to him. But from a utilitarian standpoint, he understood that gloves served little purpose outside of battle, labor, or ceremony.

Still, he could not bring himself to leave his favored pair forgotten on the nightstand. A foolish ritual. It was bad enough that he’d fallen out of the habit of wearing his armor, hung in plain view in his wardrobe; an open mockery, denouncing him as a warrior. A moment’s debate, a brief consideration, but he decided to forego it for now, despite the impending spar he’d scheduled with Kakarot.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was about time to go.

The gravity room stood primed and at the ready, recently renovated in the wake of a particularly forceful session. Kakarot leaned against the doorframe, perking up the instant he saw Vegeta approach. Punctuality betrayed his excitement, perhaps even more so than the dopey grin that cracked across his face.

“G’morning, Vegeta! Ya ready to go?” Goku tittered, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

Vegeta said nothing, shouldering past the larger man with a measure of undue hostility. He couldn’t help but to sneer viciously at the sight of his rival, ferocious delight flowing through his veins at the thought of the impending fight. He was glad to have left his armor behind.

Today, he wanted to feel every blow.

\-----

Vegeta pulled off his gloves, turning on the faucet so he could splash cool water onto the face, heated skin singing with relief. The spar had been a welcomed balm, with punishing, devastating hits delivered on either side. He masked the urge to wince as he over-rotated his shoulder, which had been promptly dislocated and reset mid-battle. A deep swell of tissue formed around the abused socket.

Oh yeah, he was gonna feel that one for quite a while.

Goku slid into place beside him, making him bristle. The vanity in this washroom was certainly spacious enough to accommodate at least a dozen or so people, and yet the fool chose to stand practically on top of him. Incorrigible man.

“Ah! That’s was a great session, Vegeta! You really let me have it in there, huh?” Goku stretched his arms above his head with a groan and a laugh. A small floret of purple and yellow flourished into sight under his eye, but it did little to diminish his ever-present grin.

Vegeta merely grunted, glaring at the fool through the reflection in the mirror. He brought a soft cloth to his face, patting away the excess water.

“Hey, what happened here? Looks like these smart somethin’ fierce!” Goku queried, his hand encircling Vegeta’s wrist on his good arm, pulling the smaller man’s hand closer. A concerned look crossed his face as he inspected Vegeta’s fingers.

“It’s nothing! And even it if was something, it’s certainly none of your damn business, Kakarot!” Vegeta snatched his hand away, wrenching it from Goku’s unwarranted grasp, seething at the audacity. He quickly drew his hands behind his back, hiding them from sight, cursing himself for being so thoughtless as to remove his gloves around the other man.

“You know, sometimes my nails get pretty rough, too.” Goku chirped, stretching out his fingers in front of Vegeta’s face, showing serviceably filed nails, a hint of dark earth rimming the cuticles. “Lots of small rocks and such in all the dirt. Chi-Chi says that’s why I should use my tools more, but I just like feelin’ the work, you know? Makes it seem more like training.” He smiled even wider, steeped in effortless laughter.

Damn, he pissed Vegeta right the hell off.

“I don’t care.” The prince growled, shuffling back a pace.

“Y’know, I smooth em’ out sometimes.” Goku continued, unbothered. “I’m bad at getting all of the grime out, but if I don’t get rid of the ridges they get all caught up on stuff and tear and it hurts! You got a file?”

“Kakarot, your personal grooming habits are of little consequence to me. Drop it.” Vegeta droned, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head at the onslaught of mindless information.

“C’mon, you’ve never done it? It’s easy and feels kinda good. A bit boring, though.” Goku persisted, his tone edging on mockery.

“I said drop it!” Vegeta bit out, slapping an open palm down on the vanity. Small, delicate cracks splintered out from the impact.

“Huh. Alright.” Goku frowned a bit before bringing two fingers to his forehead, disappearing in an instant.

Vegeta balked at the empty space for a spell. Had he really offended the thick-skulled man into teleporting away?

That was a first.

Fine. Good riddance to the fool.

Vegeta continued his ablutions, not really caring one way or another if he wounded the other warrior in some way. He’d gotten enough use out of the clown for one day. Sooner or later, Kakarot always came crawling back for another pummeling.

After a few minutes of stewing and quiet brooding, Vegeta was quite shocked when Goku suddenly reappeared next to him. The saiyan prince nearly jumped right out of his skin, resisting the temptation to clutch his wildly beating heart. He’d never get used to that gods-damned technique.

Without a word, Goku settled a few small objects on the vanity. At a cursory glance, they looked to be two kinds of small clippers, a roughly textured wedge of some kind, and a little cosmetic tube.

“Show me your hands.” No preamble, no soft smile. Just quiet expectancy.

“Why don’t you just fuck right off, Kakarot.” Vegeta scowled, recoiling at the absolute gall of Goku’s insistence.

How _dare_ he.

_Hands pressed mercilessly into his back, a heavy boot cracking down on his wrist. Unspeakable pain coursing recklessly up his spine. The tips of his fingers abused with sharp, searing blades. Nerves misfiring._

_Pure agony._

“Give me your hand.” Goku held out a hand, palm up, urging Vegeta with his eyes. His was tone resolute, leaving no room for argument.

The silence stretched between them.

For some stupid fucking reason, Vegeta placed his palm over Goku’s. Goku tapped the counter, encouraging Vegeta to sit, to which the prince rolled his eyes, but obliged, hopping up to settle awkwardly on the cool, hard surface of the vanity.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this.” Vegeta grit out. In truth, Vegeta could barely understand why he allowed the other man to even touch him in the first place.

_A scream pierced his ears. Surely not his own scream. It couldn’t be. He would never make such a noise. But as another flash of fire scorched through his veins, fingers twitching in agony, a matching cry confirmed his worst fears._

_“We’ll teach you your place.”_

_Panic._

“You have to take better care of your body.” Goku softly chided, but not with the least bit of condescension. “You are kind of careless with yourself. Can’t expect a good harvest just by plantin’ seeds and waiting. Ya gotta water them too, ya know?” He spoke casually, conversational and light, his head bowed over Vegeta’s hand as he worked. Clippers on jagged peaks, stray cuticles. Slow, decisive strokes of the file carefully smoothing down the rough, tender edges of Vegeta’s nails. He carefully maneuvered around places where sensitive, ruddy skin poked out from receded edges.

It was all rather… pleasant.

“What’s with all the farming references, Kakarot?” Vegeta noted how a faint pink hue blossomed over Goku’s cheeks, barely masked by the fringe of his bangs.

“Hah, sorry. I kinda got that stuff on the brain. It’s all I really do now besides trainin’ with you. Trainin’s a lot more fun, though.” Goku gently released the hand he’d just worked over, reaching for the other without missing a beat. Vegeta let him take it, raising an eyebrow at how careful Goku was being, a stark contrast to the way he dislocated the very same arm an hour ago.

Minutes melted away as Goku continued to work in silence, meticulously smoothing everything over. Just when Vegeta thought he had finished, Goku popped open a small tube of lotion, warming it quickly between his palms before firmly massaging Vegeta’s hands. Fingers deftly rolled over each digit, every joint treated with firm, careful pressure.

“This way you don’t gotta hide ‘em behind gloves anymore. Must make your hands all hot and sticky, being wrapped up all like that all the time.” Goku mused, the massage lingering perhaps a bit to long. He smiled, finally looking up to lock eyes with Vegeta.

“You get used to it.” Vegeta muttered, eyes darting away from the stupid man in front of him. He felt as though he’d been caught watching something obscene.

“Did you pay attention to how I did it?” A soft, curious query. Thumbs worked into his palms. Vegeta shivered, despite the curious warmth that pooled in his gut.

“Not really.” Vegeta lied. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the nuances of personal hygiene, but he wasn’t ready to admit how enthralled he was with the way the fool worked him over.

“That’s okay.” Goku shrugged. The massaging ceased, but he still held Vegeta’s hands gently within his own. “If they get bad again, I can take care of them for ya. It’s good practice.”

“Don’t act so familiar, you dolt.” Vegeta scoffed, his fingers tensing a bit, making it seem as though he were squeezing the other’s hands. If Goku noticed, he didn’t say, for which Vegeta was grateful. “If you want to take on that kind of responsibility, then by all means. I’m certainly not going to engage in such a foolish ritual of my own accord.” His words lacked their usual venom, and Goku cracked another smile, much to Vegeta’s dismay.

“Alright. I can handle that.” Finally, Goku let go of him.

“Idiot.” Vegeta hopped down from the counter, breezing past the taller man without so much as a backwards glance.

“Hey, Vegeta?”

“What? You’ve taken too much of my time today, what else could you possibly want?” Vegeta whipped himself around, one hand coming to his hip. To his horror, Goku leaned against the vanity, a pair of white gloves dangling between pinched fingers.

“Forgetting something?”

That cocksure grin was enough to short out Vegeta’s brain.

“I hate you.” Vegeta managed after a beat, swallowing back a more searing retort as he snatched the gloves from Goku’s hands before storming away.

“I know.” Goku affirmed, bringing his hands behind his head in a careless posture.

\-----

The next week, Goku swung by for another spar. Unannounced, of course. Once again, he scared the absolute shit out of Vegeta, who managed to hold his composure, despite his spiking blood pressure. After a sling of insults, Vegeta agreed to spar, if only for the satisfaction of being able to really lay into the object of his unrelenting ire.

Goku’s eyes trailed towards Vegeta’s hands as the older man keyed in the door code to the gravity room. The biggest grin imaginable cracked over Goku's face.

The gloves were off.

Goku didn't mention it, and for that, Vegeta was grateful.

This could be normal. He could make it normal. 

One step at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Vakaara for the inspiration and the beta-read on this one! Couldn't have done it without you bringing up your head canon of Vegeta being a nail-biter! It was fun brain-blasting this out, haha <3


End file.
